For Charity
by Loafer
Summary: COMPLETE. Established LASSIET: Lassiter and Juliet find themselves headed for a social event neither of them wants, and about six paragraphs in, you'll figure it out.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: nothing _**psych**_-ish is mine, just like always

**Rating**: T … a little M-ish… but mostly T

**Summary**: (Established) **Lassiet**, of course. If you've shamelessly read my smutty _Juliet On The Edge_ smutfest of smut, you can consider this a smut-**lite** continuation of sorts, which at two chapters (probably) seems worthy of separate posting. Plot suggestion courtesy of the inestimable Lawson227, this features our Lassiet duo in a social setting neither of them wants, and about six paragraphs in, you'll figure it out.

**. . . .**

**. . .**

Carlton Lassiter had never heard anything as awful as the words which came out of Karen Vick's mouth that afternoon.

Never.

He glanced at Juliet, and she seemed horrified too.

Karen went on talking, saying terrible, _terrible_ things, and he felt himself shrinking into a small thin shard of ice, far too easily breakable.

The words… the sheer _evil_ of her words…

_Charity ball… all single police staff… bachelors and bachelorette auction… not mandatory but _strongly_ encouraged… mayor very anxious for full participation… represent the city well… please don't bother asking to get out of it without a damned good reason… _

Then she whisked herself off to her office and left her troops awaiting an email which would explain in more horrifying detail what they were expected to do.

Lassiter sank down into his chair.

He shouldn't feel this way.

He knew it was ridiculous. Paranoid. Crazy.

But he knew: he was going to lose Juliet.

Some rich and irresistible friend of the mayor's was going to bid on her, win her, take her on a fantastic date—probably to Paris in his Learjet—show her a world apart from him, and he would lose her.

Never mind they'd been together for nearly a year. Never mind how completely and utterly right things were. He _knew_. He knew she could do better.

Not that she could ever find anyone who loved her more—there was no man alive who loved Juliet like he did, who would do anything for her the way he would.

But love didn't always conquer all, did it? And she could certainly find someone who fit in better with others, who wasn't so… _him_. And she was adaptable, so willing to see the good in people. How could she fail to see she'd be better off with another man?

And oh yeah, he'd have to be auctioned off himself, which would be humiliating. No one was going to bid on _him_. He'd probably get a bid from that idiot Spencer, and end up on a three-way date with him and Guster watching 80s sitcoms or something equally idiotic.

Steaming crap on a soggy cracker.

He was so lost in his funk that he never noticed Juliet going into Vick's office.

**. . . .**

**. . .**

Karen had figured it would be Lassiter who came in first, so she was surprised to find Juliet O'Hara closing the door and facing her with anxious determination.

"You'll be fine, O'Hara," she said soothingly. "It's just one date."

"Chief, you know I'm with Carlton."

"Yes, but by some miracle no one else does. As far as the mayor's office is concerned, you're available." She gestured for her to sit, because she wasn't in the mood for hoverers.

Juliet sat, but she didn't relax. "I don't care about my own date. I'm worried about Carlton."

"He'll be fine, too," Karen said, albeit with less conviction.

"That's what I'm worried about," Juliet said unhappily. "Chief, if some gorgeous rich woman bids on him…"

_Whoa_. "I'm sorry, are you actually insecure about his affections?"

Judging by the young woman's expression, she was.

"O'Hara, you can't be serious. Listen, as discreet as you two are, it's obvious at least to _me_ he's been besotted with you for years. No way is one charity auction date going to change his mind about you."

"How can you be sure?" The question was quiet.

She tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. "Please. That man is yours, body and soul. He'll probably piss off his date in under twenty minutes, I'll get a call from the mayor after the woman complains, and if we're lucky, that'll be a completely separate issue from him breaking up _your_ date by faking a police emergency."

Slowly, Juliet smiled. "You think so?"

"Yes, but please note, I don't actually want _any_ of that to happen. I want you to dress him well that night, send him out to make nice to a donor, and be done with it. Same for you. No trouble. No calls from the mayor. Just be nice."

"He's just so… amazing," Juliet said plaintively. "I just think that if another woman sees him the way I do, he might… I don't know… want to explore other options."

Karen suspected that the private Carlton Lassiter probably _was_ amazing, but she had to bring Juliet back to reality. "Listen to me, O'Hara. Carlton's got everything he needs in you; even I can see that. And honestly, there's only a few ways out of this. One, you bid on each other—but be warned, the opening bids are $500. That's a thousand dollars right there, assuming no one else bids, and you know both of you will do better than that. The other option is to come out as a couple, but are you sure you want to take that risk right now, in this particular way?"

Juliet said nothing.

Curious now, Karen persisted, "Actually, how have you kept it quiet so long? I'd think by now you'd have been caught out, if not by chance then by someone nosy like Shawn Spencer."

"We're… discreet," Juliet said.

"You don't go out? I know you filed an address change for personnel." It had been about six months ago, if she recalled, but she'd guessed they were together before learning they shared Carlton's condo.

Shrugging, and smiling a little, Juliet explained, "We work long hours, so at the end of the day we just want to be home. Together." The faraway look in her eyes suggested she was very happy with this arrangement. "We've gone away for the weekend a few times, and we do go out, and of course we keep up with our own interests, but mostly… we just like being together, and home is the nicest place for that." She cleared her throat, perhaps aware she was speaking too much of personal things. "As for Shawn, I tell him I move a lot, and honestly, I don't think it would ever occur to him I'm with Carlton."

Probably not. Shawn would have to consider Carlton 'a contender,' and he was generally in the habit of overlooking most of Carlton's skills and abilities in all areas—except when he needed his butt saved after some stupid stunt.

"Even so… it's been awhile, and not that I don't appreciate discretion when my detectives are blurring departmental guidelines, but why are you still undercover after all this time?"

Juliet's smile was more open now. "Privacy's a good thing, Chief. And besides, the longer we go on proving we can work together well despite our relationship, the better it looks when it does come out."

"Privacy _is_ a good thing," she agreed. "And certainly coming out ahead of this auction would blow that right out of the water. So my advice is this, Juliet: find a nice dress. It's just one night for both of you."

She could almost hear Juliet thinking _this sucks_.

**. . . .**

**. . .**

Dinner was quiet. Lassiter didn't feel like talking because he knew he'd sound like a whiny, insecure ass, which—while certainly he _admitted_ to being a whiny, insecure ass—he didn't think would do him any good here.

He stole glances at Juliet as they washed dishes; she seemed unusually subdued, and while she gave him the occasional brilliant smile, it was quick to fade when she thought he wasn't looking.

She was probably thinking about the kind of man who was going to win the date with her. His one consolation was that it probably wouldn't be Spencer, as long as Gus kept hold of his credit card for a change.

Of course, that meant Spencer wouldn't bid on _him_, either, but then again he was just as likely to drag some senior citizen or ex-wrestler or squirrel-adoring vegan in to wreak bidding havoc in his stead.

Yet what if Spencer did manage to bid on Juliet? And took her on a real date? And won her over with his easy charm once he had her up close and personal—never mind that she'd resisted him so far; what if after nearly a year with Lassiter, she was ready for something lighter?

He slammed the silverware drawer shut, annoyed, and Juliet looked up from washing a pitcher, startled.

"I hate this," he snapped. "This stupid auction is screwing with my head."

"Mine too," she said grimly. "I already hate whoever wins you with a blinding white passion."

Lassiter blinked. "You... _what_?"

She put the pitcher away and faced him. "I hate her. I don't even know who she is, but I hate her. I don't hate easily, Carlton, and I've never hated someone I don't know, but I assure you, I hate this woman."

Gears were shifting, grinding, clashing, crashing, as he tried to adjust his brain to her words. "You're… you're jealous of… that's insane. Jealous of someone dating me? _Me_?"

"Yes, you! Why wouldn't I be? Some stupid woman's going to get a look at your eyes and drag you off to her lair and what chance have I got?"

Dear God, she was serious. Lassiter took a step closer and said, "O'Hara, as long as I carry a Colt 45, no one's dragging me to any lair except yours. Even unarmed, I won't go without a fight, and I'll never succumb to anyone but you. Ever."

Juliet stared up at him, her blue-gray eyes filled with emotion. "Oh."

"The bigger problem," he went on quietly, "is how to keep _you_ from succumbing to a better man than I am."

The emotion turned to puzzlement. "Who's better than you?"

"Juliet…"

"Carlton, who's better for me than you are?" She closed the distance between them, sliding her arms around his waist. "I've seen what's out there. You're the best man for me. The only man." Her frown returning, she added, "You're _my_ man." She squeezed him hard, unsmiling, but it wasn't unpleasant.

Lassiter couldn't help but smile. "I am." He brushed his lips against hers, and she sighed, opening her mouth to his kiss, sweet and loving.

But only for a moment, because she abruptly pulled back. "I want you out of this auction."

"And I want _you_ out of it, but how?"

"Well, Vick said the starting bids are $500, so unless you've got a hell of a lot of change under those sofa cushions, that won't work. We could come out," she added softly, looking up at him carefully, "but that might not work either." She let out another large sigh. "Short of running off to get married, which is hardly an option, I don't see either of us escaping this stupid, stupid thing." She closed the dishwasher forcefully and stalked off down the hall.

Lassiter was still.

What had she just said?

_Marriage._

_Not an option._

No, wait. _Wait_, he thought.

They had never talked of marriage. They had been so busy being happily wrapped up in each other that the specific topic of marriage had never come up. He'd _assumed_, because _he_ wanted it. He wanted her to be his wife, but every day that passed in their cocoon had seemed to be taking them in that direction and he'd never really needed to bring it up.

Now _she_ had… as a _non_-option.

Maybe it was because of their jobs, or maybe… he remembered now, something from the investigation into the nanny agency years ago, something Spencer and Guster had babbled, about Juliet being opposed to the idea of marriage.

_Buck up, man. For damned sure she loves you, and you could go on like this for freakin' ever without a ring, and you know it._

Still. It gave him pause, considerable, frown-inducing pause, to think she might already have closed the door to the progression of their relationship.

_Idiot. Ten minutes ago you were worried about a charity date taking her away from you. Now you're sure she won't leave but still freaked that she won't marry you._

_Not that you've _asked_ her._

So…

He opened a drawer just to slam it shut again.

**. . . .**

**. . .**

Juliet came to bed after he did, showered and smelling delightfully of peaches and cream, wearing a little filmy nightie along with a real smile and nothing else.

"Hey," he murmured, closing his book as she approached.

"Hey," she murmured back, effortlessly straddling him in one easy motion. "I decided."

He couldn't resist sliding his hands up her smooth thighs. "About what?"

"I decided," she said, easing his t-shirt up, "that if I'm going to be a jealous bitch, I should at least give you a good reason to want to stick with me."

Lassiter sighed at her touch, and gasped when she shifted, putting her knees between his legs now and pulling at his flannel pajama bottoms. "I have plenty of good reasons."

"Nevertheless," she almost purred, exposing him and bestowing a light kiss to his already heated flesh, "I want to stake my claim tonight."

"Ohhh," he groaned.

"And if later _I_ should happen to get… staked… well, that's okay too." She did something wicked with her tongue, making him arch closer. "I'm going to stop talking for awhile, okay?"

No problem. He was speechless too.

**. . . .**

**. . .**

"I want O'Hara excused from this auction," he said firmly to his superior officer, who looked up at him quizzically from her fresh cup of coffee.

Which he had just brought her. Unasked. Because sometimes, it didn't hurt to have backup.

"Detective," she began, and then smiled. "Close the door."

He did and then returned to stand behind the chair, gripping its back firmly. "I mean it. I will do whatever it takes to get her out of it. I'll work triple shifts, I'll take a pay cut. Whatever has to be done, I'll do."

"Lassiter, this is not that big a deal. Honestly, I don't see how you two can be so insecure. It's obvious you're crazy about each other."

For a moment he felt rather warm in the face, as well as the heart, but he remained focused. "It's not about insecurity. It's about what she's having to put up with now."

"Come again?"

"Chief, in the week since this stupid auction was announced, O'Hara's been hit on twenty-three separate times—fifteen of them at City Hall and the courthouse. She's handling it but it's starting to get to her, which means it got to me after the first one she told me about. I want her off the menu."

_That_ seemed to get Vick's attention. She set the mug down firmly. "Where is O'Hara now?"

"At her desk, but Chief… she doesn't know I'm talking to you about this." He understood full well that he was risking Juliet's wrath, but this was too important. Her pride—wanting to handle everything herself—wasn't enough reason for him to stand down.

Vick gave him a knowing smile. "Should have thought of that before you came in, then." She picked up her phone and called Juliet, asking her to join them in the office.

Lassiter steeled himself and went to open the door, meeting Juliet's questioning gaze impassively. He loved her, and she could probably kick his ass, but this had to be done.

"Detective O'Hara," Vick said briskly once the door was closed again and both of them were seated. "Have you been receiving unwanted attention because of the upcoming auction?"

Juliet instantly shot Lassiter a glare he felt down to his coccyx.

"O'Hara? Don't look at him. _I _want your answer."

She composed herself (meaning he would be in for it later). "It's nothing I can't handle."

"Uh-huh. Is the number twenty-three accurate?"

Juliet flushed. "Twenty-nine. There were a few I didn't tell him about."

"Dammit, Juliet!" He turned in his chair to face her. "This has got to stop."

"Lassiter, be quiet. O'Hara, listen to me. I'm no stranger to unwanted attention, though granted there was more of it when I was younger and still single, and I'll be honest with you both, in confidence—" She paused to give them a steely glare. "I don't think much of the mayor's plan. 'Strongly encouraging' female officers to allow themselves to be sold, even for charity, even for so-called harmless dates, doesn't really set well with me. We urged him to make the damn thing entirely and _truly_ voluntary, but he wanted to be sure to get enough participants."

"Chief, I don't want to make any trouble for you." Juliet hadn't looked at Lassiter since that first glare, but her voice was steady.

Crap. He was going to have to buy either a sofa or a guest bed, since the loveseat looked to be where he'd be laying his head tonight.

Vick was dismissive. "It's my job to handle trouble, and in my opinion, there are enough participants already. While men are now and have always tended to be pigs, I don't need you to put up with it." She glanced at Lassiter. "No offense."

"None taken." He completely agreed that most men _were_ pigs.

"Good. You're excused from the charity auction, O'Hara. That's all." She lifted her coffee mug, as if the conversation was over.

Juliet hesitated. "What about Carlton?"

Vick sighed. "Have you been hit on this week, Detective Lassiter?"

He was puzzled. "Women don't hit on me."

"Yes, they do!" Juliet snapped. "They do all the time, only you can't see it."

Lassiter stared at her. _No way,_ he was thinking. _I'd know if a woman was interested, wouldn't I?_

_Hell. _

_I'm an idiot. I don't know a damned thing._

Vick rolled her eyes. "Look, I know it's sexist of me to assume it's different for a man than a woman in this sort of situation, but you know what? It's different for a man than a woman. If women are hitting on you and you're oblivious, then there's really no problem, is there? So we go back to what I said a week ago: unless you want to make your relationship public, then you, Carlton Lassiter, are going to be auctioned off next Friday night." She gestured to the door. "Out you go, sucking it up."

**. . . .**

**. . .**

Juliet went to her desk without a word to Carlton, who knew better than to mess with her right now.

She was annoyed. It had been a rough week, true; apparently her name being on the auction list had given every man in the county free license to make remarks worthy of pistol-whipping, no matter how 'delicately phrased,' and she'd had to hold Carlton back from popping a couple of lawyers on Monday.

But being off the auction block didn't solve her real problem, which was her simmering rage about Carlton still being _on_ it.

_Oh, what is your deal? You know he loves you. You know he really is totally oblivious to women flirting with him. You know that short of a bidder dropping trou on her way up to claim her prize, he won't be thinking of anyone but you. Especially since you've gone nuts on him this past week_.

It was true. She blushed, feeling the heat of it in her face as she logged back into her PC. She had been on Carlton like white on rice. They had an active sex life to begin with, but this week she'd managed to maul him in every room in the condo, including the shower—twice—and once in the Crown Vic during a stakeout, his hands firmly on the steering wheel while hers were firmly on… _well, never mind_, she warned herself, because if she dwelled on it they'd be meeting up in the janitor's closet again and he'd sworn that was a one-time deal.

Not that he was complaining. But they both knew something else was driving her.

It was that another woman was going to get to look at him, talk to him, possibly touch his hand or his arm. Smile, be smiled at.

_He's mine. I don't want any other woman near him. He's _mine.

She turned in her chair to glare at him, and his blue gaze was uncertain, and crap, she wanted to go over there and kiss him and tell him she was sorry for being a jealous lunatic.

But first she had to figure out how to raise enough money to outbid every other woman who might want to get her skanky grubby paws on _Juliet's_ man.

**. . . .**

**. . . **


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**. . . .**

**. . . **

"We put your bed in my storage unit in the basement, right?"

Juliet looked over at him, puzzled. "Yes. Why?"

They were driving home, and he was still waiting for the axe to fall. "Well. I figured maybe I'd better set that up tonight."

"What? Carlton," she said impatiently. "I'm not banishing you from the bedroom just because you ratted me out to Vick."

_Ratted_. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I just didn't see how else to… I'm sorry."

Juliet sighed too. "No, it's okay. Sometimes a girl does need a little help. And it turned out to be a good thing for everyone, didn't it?"

"Including the guys I was going to arrest for harassment," he muttered, but she was right; by the end of the day, thanks to Chief Vick's withdrawal of Juliet's name from the auction list along with what he assumed was a strongly worded message to someone in power, the mayor's office had issued an alteration to the plan: participation was now entirely voluntary, and anyone who wanted to drop out could do so without question. _Except Carlton_, Vick told them later. _Don't even think about it_.

She put her hand on his arm, semi-soothingly, semi-warningly. "Take it easy."

He was trying. He was beyond relieved that the love of his life wasn't going to be sold to the highest rat bastard bidder, but that at least would have been only one night—well, two, counting the date, during which hours he'd have been climbing the walls utterly stark raving bonkers—whereas this ongoing "flirtation" by men he wanted to kill might have gone on long past the auction.

Now if he could just keep Juliet from going bonkers herself (not that he in any way minded her sexual aggression in the bedroom… and guest room… shower… kitchen… dining room and, _hell_ yeah, car).

What had she said back in Vick's office? Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Do women really hit on me?"

Fixing him now with a cold blue-gray stare, Juliet bit out, "Yes."

"But _who_? When?"

She was clearly irritated. "How about the waitress at El Cielo on Tuesday? She practically took off her shirt for you."

"_What_? She said she was hot!" He dimly remembered that every time the waitress came to the table, she seemed to be less dressed, but the place _had_ been warm.

"I had to remind her twice that I was sitting across from you. Or how about last week, when we were interviewing the guy at the hospital? Two nurses gave you their phone numbers!"

He was perplexed. "In case I had any more questions! O'Hara, trust me—"

"The only question they wanted you to ask was when they could meet you for drinks and debauchery!"

He was staring at her, open-mouthed, when the driver of the car behind them honked his horn.

"Green light," she said tightly, and he drove, but only as far as the next open parking space.

"Juliet," he said firmly, "there are no other women."

"I know that! I'm not saying you would ever—"

"No, you don't understand. I'm saying _there are_ _no other women_. There are men, there are gay men, there's the whole cross-dressing contingent, there's female-shaped entities, some of whom are also men, and then there's you. You are the only woman, period."

_Even though you probably don't want to marry me. _He hadn't quite decided how he felt about that.

Juliet, smiling at last, leaned in and kissed him.

Well, he knew how he felt about _that_: he kissed her back. "So I don't have to lug your bed up out of the storage unit?"

"If you do, I'll shoot you."

"Fair enough."

They were nearly to Prospect Gardens when she said thoughtfully, "Although, you know, I could probably sell a lot of the things we put in storage."

"Like what?" To his way of thinking, they merely hadn't gotten around to combining her furniture with his, and certainly some of his could go. She might not be planning to marry him, but she seemed likely to be living with him awhile. (Forever would be good.)

She didn't answer, and something about the set of her jaw gave him a clue.

"You can't bid on me." He parked the car, turning to her, but she got out without a word.

Lassiter had to hurry to catch up to her, but Rose-Marie Farrow was in the elevator with her strange boy and devil-baby so he kept his mouth shut.

At the condo door, which Juliet unlocked, he said again, "Sweetheart, you can't bid on me."

"Why not? I'm not in the auction so I should be able to bid on anyone I want, and I want you." She stalked into the bedroom to change, and he followed her, shrugging off his jacket and undoing his holster.

"You can't spend that kind of money on me. Five hundred bucks?"

"Oh, it'll be more than five hundred. But if I sell the bed and maybe the end tables and the bookcase—"

"It's _not_ going to be more than five hundred, but that's still too much." He sat on the bed to take off his shoes, and she came to stand in front of him, blouse half-open, frown in place.

"You really think no one's going to bid on you?"

"Well…" Yeah. He did think that.

"Hello? Do you see yourself at all? You're tall, distinguished, part Cary Grant and have eyes to die for. You're a babe, dammit."

He blinked. He may have blushed. "You're biased."

She laughed harshly. "Yeah, I am, but while you were counting the number of times I got hit on this past week, I was counting the number of times you got talked about. _Lustfully_. Patrice, over at the courthouse? She says she's got seven hundred with your name on it stashed right now."

Lassiter was astonished. "That's crazy."

"No, it's not _crazy_. It's _planning ahead_, and that's what _I _need to do." She turned toward the closet but he grabbed her wrist and drew her back to him.

"Juliet, stop." He caught her other hand and looked up at her. "You know I don't want to do this but you also know you have nothing to worry about. Women may like my stupid eyes but they don't like me once they get to know me."

She flinched. "_I_ like you."

"Yeah, but it took a few years, didn't it? This is only one date and even if I get through it without incident, so what? I'm _taken_. I'm _yours_."

Juliet's eyes were misty, and she pulled free from his grip so she could cup his face with her warm hands. "I know I'm acting crazy. I don't even understand why I'm so stressed about it. But it's not you I'm worried about, Carlton. It's her."

"_Who_?"

Impatiently, she dropped her hands again. "Whichever tramp pays the most to get to you!"

"Juliet, enough." He stood, catching her close before she could break free, and picked her up to dump her on the bed. "Enough."

He slung himself over her body, opened her blouse the rest of the way and bent to kiss her, and when she tried to roll out from under him he put his full weight down, kissing her more intently, his tongue demanding entrance to her sweet warm mouth.

She relaxed slowly, giving in to the kiss, and he lifted himself off her only enough to pull her skirt up. She didn't resist, and soon began to help, unbuttoning what she could reach of his shirt and undoing his tie.

But he was in a mood to go faster, to go with whatever it took to get her attention, to show her how fully he was hers and _she was his_.

He kept his mouth on hers while his hand went exploring under her panties, and it was incredibly erotic to feel her writhing under him as their tongues did battle, especially when she stopped... gasped… couldn't focus on the kiss because of what he was doing with his fingers. He kissed her anyway, relentlessly, drinking her in, becoming more aroused every second, with every undulation of her body, and the second her orgasm peaked, he shoved his pants down and claimed her fully.

Juliet gasped and met his thrusts, her blue-gray eyes—the hell with _his_ damn eyes; _hers_ were mesmerizing—locked on him, showing her love and her need and her pleasure, and Lassiter, who had lost himself to her years ago, lost himself anew in her arms, in her body, in her kiss and in their perfect connection.

And after, lying together still partly dressed, she said dreamily, "I think maybe I should relax about this auction."

Lassiter grinned. "Maybe a little."

"But if anyone so much as pats you on the butt, I'm goin' postal."

**. . . .**

**. . .**

Juliet did her best to hold it together at least outwardly, and she thought she did a pretty good job until Friday afternoon. Carlton was nervous, and it started to get to her again.

She had to be strong for him, because he was getting more and more tense himself. He was worried about her, he was worried about no one bidding, he was worried about _anyone_ bidding, and he really didn't want to be up on stage with a tag on his back. He didn't like that he couldn't take his gun, he was still sure Shawn and Gus were going to turn up and wreak havoc, and as much as she hated the idea of him spending an evening with another woman, she also hated how agitated he was getting about the whole production.

Smiling as much as she could, speaking as calmly as possible, she got them to the hotel ballroom on time, assured him he looked very handsome in his black jacket and blue shirt—and he did, damn him, he was gorgeous, and not just because the blue of his shirt drew out the magnificent blue of his unmistakably unhappy eyes—swore she would behave, and he would be fine, and it was all going to go very smoothly.

Then she drew him around a corner in the back hall and kissed the hell out of him. "You're mine," she said.

"Hell yeah," he agreed in a whisper.

"Now go make the mayor proud."

He walked off, muttering something about whackaloons, and Juliet told herself to get a grip and go sit down.

The ballroom was already half-full, and she found a seat at a table near the stage but at the side, so she could get a clear view of the bidders. Waiters and waitresses were bringing around hors d'oeuvres and desserts and taking orders for no-doubt watered-down drinks.

The matron seated next to her asked for a Bloody Mary; Juliet asked for red wine.

The woman looked familiar—elegant, bordering on elderly, but not unapproachable. In fact, she introduced herself to Juliet right away. "I'm Millicent," she said. "You look rather uneasy, dear."

"Juliet," she answered, taking the woman's cool hand briefly. "I _am_ uneasy. My… my good friend is in the auction and I'm…" _What? A raging wingnut?_ "A little concerned."

Millicent's smile was kind. "Is your friend male or female?"

"Male," she admitted.

The laughter was also kind. "I see. I'm quite trustworthy, you know, when it comes to confidences."

Juliet took a slug of her wine. "I hope so." She looked at her plaintively. "It's my partner. And he's… he's…"

After a pause, Millicent clarified, "You're a police officer?"

She nodded.

"And your partner is… someone you care about?" Such delicate wording.

There went another slug of wine. "Understatement," she muttered.

"I see," Millicent said with amusement. "Why is he in the auction?"

"Politics. Expectations. I was able to get out of it but he's not so lucky. And it's our fault, for trying to keep our relationship quiet."

"Yes, I understand it's frowned upon for partners to be involved. Oh look, they're starting."

Swell, she thought, and turned to the stage. According to the roster, there were twenty names on the block: six women, fourteen men. The emcee made introductions, the mayor gave a short cheery speech, there was some silly burlesque music briefly to make everyone laugh, and then it really got going.

Juliet hoped Carlton was doing okay backstage. She knew he hated all this as much as he did, only his hatred was flavored by not wanting _this_ kind of spotlight as well as by his certainty that no one would bid on him (and oh yeah, that he might have to bail her out of jail later).

At least Shawn and Gus had stayed away; something about a _Facts of Life_ marathon. Or maybe it was a churro-eating contest; she couldn't remember. It may have been that Shawn just didn't want to see attention focused on anyone else. In any case, she was glad they weren't there, because Shawn would definitely have made it all worse for Carlton.

The order of auction-ees was random and Juliet was getting progressively more restless.

Millicent leaned over and inquired, "Which one is yours, dear?"

Mutely, she pointed to the inset photo in the brochure. It didn't really do him justice, but the blue of his eyes was dramatic enough to make the elegant older lady say, "Mmmmm… I see the problem."

"I can't stand it," she blurted out. "It's driving me crazy. I'm not worried about _him_ but it's making me nuts that some other woman's going to get to be alone with him and do God knows what before he even knows what hit him!"

"You're sure he won't know?" Quickly, Millicent added, "I'm sorry; it's just that I've been around long enough to know a lot about men."

"Oh, I'm sure. Carlton is genuinely oblivious to his own appeal. All his ego goes to his job and how well he does it, how he represents the department and the city."

"Head Detective, I see." Millicent tapped on the three-line 'bio.' "Impressive. He'll get bids. Those are rather magnificent eyes."

Juliet suddenly realized something was… off. "If you don't mind my asking, is this really your scene? Are you planning to bid on anyone tonight?"

"Heavens, no. I'm here at the insistence of family who wanted me to get out and be seen, or see, or some such nonsense."

The other people at the table were focused on the stage, and no one had done more than exchange polite hellos with them. "But you're… alone?"

Millicent laughed. "I wasn't going to sit with _them_. Besides, my eyes aren't quite as good as they used to be and if there are going to be attractive young men on stage, I want a clear view."

Juliet had to laugh. She liked this lady.

"And why are _you_ alone, Juliet? You seem like the kind of person who would have friends here for moral support."

She had been, once. Not that she needed any of the friends she _did_ have in town to see her freaking out. Karen Vick had motioned for her to come to the table she shared with her husband, but Juliet had declined, because she really did _not_ need to fall apart in front of her supervisor. "The job's long hours make it hard to keep up with people, and the truth is, my very best friend is going to be up there on stage soon."

Millicent was smiling. "You're making me quite nostalgic for my late husband, you know. I felt that way about him." She patted Juliet's arm. "If your Carlton is as in love with you as you are with him, you're both going to be just fine."

"Thank you," Juliet whispered. She knew in her soul Millicent was right. This was just one stupid night and she needed to suck it up.

Some of the men 'sold' for up to fifteen hundred dollars, and the first four women 'sold' for close to two grand apiece. The bidders were a motley crew, some obviously wealthy women and men, some obviously trust-fund celebutantes. Juliet recognized some of the bidders—all standing, waving their numbered fans between drinks, increasingly enthusiastic as the night, and the music, and the emcee patter wore on.

Finally Carlton's name was called, number eighteen of twenty. Juliet sat up straight, watching her man closely as he walked out on stage. He was tense, but his blue eyes blazed—as if lit from within, she sometimes thought; how else could they be that bright, that vivid?—and his fair skin and still-mostly-dark hair against the black jacket and deep blue shirt made him especially mouth-wateringly attractive.

And the women, after a hush, went wild.

Carlton was startled, to be sure, and a blush stained his cheeks. Juliet wanted to run up on stage and pull him out of there (possibly with her gun aimed at the crowd while she yelled "Stand back!"), but Millicent, as if sensing this, put her hand on Juliet's arm and murmured something soothing.

"Your Carlton is a _very_ handsome man," she added mildly.

He found Juliet, his gaze locked to hers for precious seconds, and she smiled at him because he needed to see that, he _needed_ it, and he visibly relaxed just a little. Enough to go through with it.

The emcee started the bidding at $500 and within moments it was up to $700.

The bid for $800 came from a man. The audience went nuts. Carlton glared, and Juliet found herself laughing. "You've got it, babe," she whispered. "I _told_ you."

Three minutes later, the bidding was up to $1200. Four women remained as the main contenders when the bid reached $1300.

It inched upward in fifty-dollar increments—Patrice from the courthouse gave up at $1450—until the bidding reached $1550, and that seemed to be the end. More than respectable, Juliet thought with a burst of pride; at least the woman who won him would be laying down serious cash for the privilege. The woman in question worked in public relations for City Hall, and she already knew Carlton didn't like her much. _Good luck, hussy_.

"$1800," a new voice called out clearly, and Juliet saw a brunette making her way closer to the stage in the sudden silence.

Juliet was immediately aghast, and then furious. "Oh, no. No way. Not you. Not _ever_!"

She started to get out of her chair but Millicent pulled her back. "Juliet, stop. Who is that?"

"That," she ground out, "is Victoria Stinking Parker, his ex-wife." She tried to get up again, but Millicent held tight. "She stomped on his heart while they were married and for the two years of their separation. There is no freaking way—I will sell my damned _car_ before I let her—"

The emcee, while Carlton also stared in horror at Victoria, was asking for further bids.

_Going, going—_

Juliet's heart sank.

Millicent stood up. "$2000!"

All heads turned to see the white-haired grand dame with her numbered fan, smiling graciously at the emcee and nodding to Carlton, who looked between her and Juliet with complete confusion.

"What are you doing?" Juliet screeched, suddenly damned happy about it even if she didn't understand.

Across the room, Victoria rallied. "$2100."

Millicent only smiled again. "$2500." She winked at Juliet.

"You… what are you doing? You don't have to do this. You shouldn't be—I mean, I'm glad but you… you…" _You're a senior citizen! Possibly on a fixed income!_

Victoria hesitated, but took another look over at her competition and obviously felt a bit smug: after all, she was the forty-something reasonably attractive woman who had previous carnal knowledge of Carlton Lassiter—Juliet felt her hands forming fists—and the genteel senior in the silvery blue dress was no match for her, right?

Calmly and with considerable arrogance, Victoria said, "$2800."

Juliet could almost read the "how d'ya like them apples" look on her face, and wanted to slap it right off her.

Millicent laughed lightly. People around them laughed too. "What a silly bitch," she said for only Juliet's ears. Then more loudly, "$4000."

The crowd "ooohed" in a way which made Juliet's heart cartwheel with glee. She glanced up at Carlton, who was completely gobsmacked but undeniably relieved, especially when the emcee got all the way through "going, going, gone" without another word from Victoria.

She couldn't help it; she hugged Millicent tight and thanked her profusely. Millicent hushed her and dealt with the little man who came to take her name and give payment instructions, and then explained, sotto voce, "I've never liked any of the Parkers. Irving is an cranky old fart, and the last I heard of Victoria some years ago, she was a spoiled little fool. If she did even one thing to hurt your man, the least I could do was stop a bad thing from happening."

"But four thousand dollars! That's incredible! What's your family going to think? Let me pay you back. I can—"

"Stop, dear. I don't care what my family thinks and I do have some disposable income of my own. Besides, it's for charity, remember?"

"But this is so much—you don't even _know_ us."

"I know love, though. Or I did." Millicent patted Juliet's hand. "Relax. Oh, look, here comes your Carlton."

He was threading his way toward them, having been released from his backstage prison, and he looked like he wanted to kiss Juliet but he held it together, bending to introduce himself to the elder lady.

"Millicent Barnes," she said, "and it's lovely to meet you. I've been getting to know your Juliet," she added with a smile, and Carlton's startled glance to Juliet said he understood she'd told Millicent about them.

"Mrs. Barnes, thank you so much for your generosity. The city thanks you, and I thank you, too." Then he frowned. "Wait. You're… you're the mayor's aunt, aren't you?"

She sighed. "Yes, but don't tell anyone."

Juliet laughed. "_That's_ the family you didn't want to sit with?"

"Well, honestly, he's so tedious. My sister's son, you know. Dropped on his head when he was little." She grinned, her eyes bright. "I've had a much better time with you, and that Bloody Mary was _quite_ nice." To Carlton, she added in a low voice, "I explained to Juliet that I never met anyone in the Parker family who didn't deserve a good smackdown. This has been great fun."

Carlton's frown turned into a grin, and he dropped to one knee between their chairs. "It just got a lot better for me, too." He took a quick look around and then kissed Juliet on the cheek. "And for you too, I hope."

She beamed at him. "Yes. Yes, it did."

"Speaking of the spawn of Parker, did you wish to speak to your ex-wife? Because she seems to be making a beeline over here."

Juliet and Carlton both followed her gaze; indeed, Victoria—her expression guarded—was trying to finesse the crowd into parting for her.

"As a matter of fact, I do not," Carlton said quite firmly, rising and pulling Juliet along with him.

"Then perhaps you'd like to escort a frail but wealthy dowager to make good on her auction debt and then possibly go have a cup of tea somewhere?"

He assured her they would indeed, and helped her to her feet.

"It can be a practice date," she added with an unladylike smirk.

"So you can judge my worthiness?" he suggested mildly, and Juliet wondered if he was half-serious.

"No, dear. So you can see just how feisty I am. I was already thinking we should have a chaperone."

He didn't know whether to take her seriously, his blue eyes wide for a moment.

Millicent winked at Juliet. "You're available, right?"

Juliet gave her another hug, and decided she probably loved this woman, but they couldn't linger, because escaping Victoria was paramount for all of them.

**. . . .**

**. . .**

At home later, after two solid hours of celebratory sex the likes of which the bed and floor had never before seen (and they'd seen a lot in the past year) (and Juliet promised to sew all the buttons back onto the shirt she'd pretty much torn off him), Lassiter and his love lay together, sated (for now).

Her head rested on his shoulder, her golden hair was soft against his arm, and her sleepy blue-gray eyes were so lovely: it made his heart twinge with pure joy to be here with her. To be _anywhere_ with her.

He stroked her arm, and her fingertips played with his chest hair. "I love you more every minute, you know."

"Good," she purred. "I feel the same way about you." She lifted her head for a gentle kiss, stroking his neck, sighing.

Lassiter wanted her again. He always wanted her.

But right now, he steeled himself. He had to know, and if he couldn't trust his best friend to give him a straight answer, then there was no point to ever asking at all. "I need some advice."

"About what?"

He took a chance that she'd allow him some wiggle room for a minute. "It's for a friend."

She laughed lightly. "Okay."

He hesitated_. Do it, man. Say it_. "It's about his girlfriend."

"Mmm-hmm?" Her fingers were back in his chest hair, teasing him.

"He wants to ask her to marry him, but…"

Her fingers stilled, her palm flattening out over his heart. "But?"

"But he's afraid she'll say no."

Juliet slowly lifted her head again, gazing at him with an expression he couldn't decipher. "Why does he think that?"

Lassiter counted the number of skipped heartbeats and figured he'd live at least another five minutes. "He knows she once said she was opposed to the concept of marriage."

She was still staring at him, motionless.

"And he…he wants kids. He's even open to the idea of adoption if she doesn't want to have one herself, but maybe she doesn't want kids at all, or maybe just not with him. There's an age difference, too. He just…" He sighed. "He just needs to figure out whether it's going to ruin everything if he asks her."

Juliet sat up, the sheet falling from her upper body, and he couldn't help but glance at her perfect breasts, because he was human and she was beautiful and he loved her so damned much and he wanted her All. The. Time.

"Your friend," she started, her voice a little shaky. "Is he a six foot two Irishman with the most amazing blue eyes ever created by God?"

"He could be." And why was he short of breath? _Never mind, idiot: go on_. "You said marriage wasn't an option. I need to know if that means what I think it means, but don't get me wrong, I will take you any way you're willing to be with me, married or not." He sat up too, caressing her face, knowing his hand was trembling and not giving a damn, because he already knew it was useless to hide anything from her.

"Carlton," she whispered. "I only meant marriage wasn't an option before the auction. There wasn't time. And what I said about marriage was back when I was still trying to prove myself and not be the little blonde doing all the conventional things that little blondes are supposed to do. Marriage, real marriage—marriage between _us_—is _exactly_ what I want."

She captured his hand with hers and turned to kiss his palm.

"Oh," he managed, his heart pounding.

"I want kids. With you. Our age difference isn't worth discussing, and in case you aren't getting this, please tell your friend I would love to marry him." She smiled, tears in her eyes. "As soon as he asks me."

Lassiter pulled her close to his body and kissed her, her mouth immediately open to him and her tears dampening his cheeks as he stroked her hair and back and lay down with her again, only now she climbed on top of him, beautiful and loving and everything he ever wanted.

"Sold," he said, letting her trail her tongue across his lips.

"All sales final," she agreed.

"No refunds, no exchanges."

"I hope you treat Millicent well on your date," she whispered.

"I will, but I promise not to kiss her goodnight no matter how rich she is."

Juliet laughed. "For four grand, you'd better. Only no tongue."

"No. That's only for you." He proved it, and she rubbed herself against him tantalizingly.

"Hmmm… and what would you have done if Victoria won the auction?"

Lassiter's turn to laugh. "Before or after you beat the crap out of her?"

"After," she said smartly.

"I'd have been a gentleman, polite and cold in a way you once told me could freeze-dry coffee."

She snickered. "And if she wanted you back?"

He slid his hands down her back to cup her derriere, tugging her against him, which she liked quite a lot judging by her squirming. "Too bad. That ship blew up, then sank, and then the underwater debris was eaten by a mutant squid monster."

"Mmmm, squid monster," she said, undulating against him again.

"With extra tentacles."

"Oh, do tell…"

"On our honeymoon," he murmured, kissing her slowly. "I'll tell you on our honeymoon."

Juliet eased her fingers into his hair and kissed his chin, and then his nose, and then his forehead. "You have to ask me to marry you first, you know."

"I know," he said with a grin, and rolled them over so he was on top. "But first I need to show you _my_ tentacle."

**. . . .**

**. . .**

**T H E**

**E N D**

**. . . .**

**. . .**

_(I expect I will still add to the smut in _Juliet On The Edge_, in case you were wondering.) (Not that you were. You're above all that. I know everyone is too mature to succumb to the lure of Lassiet smut.)_


End file.
